


I Will Follow You Into The Dark

by cantonforking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantonforking/pseuds/cantonforking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death-fic based on the song <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbqtuFemMOE">I Will Follow You Into The Dark</a> by Death Cab For Cutie<br/><b>Warnings:</b> Character death; suicide trigger; spoilers up to season 6, Mother Dearest<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Follow You Into The Dark

The Winchesters had beaten everything that had come their way. Spirits, ghosts, demons, angels, hell even The Mother Of All and the Devil himself hadn't been able to take down the brothers. Sam supposed it was inevitable that it had been just another spirit who had got one up on Dean.

It hadn't made any sense at the time. Sam had just turned around and Dean was on the ground, mouth open in a silent scream. The world had stopped then; everything frozen. The spirit was standing over Dean, bloodied knife in hand. Sam was stuck where he was, staring unseeingly at his brother dying on the floor.

Then everything had started moving, so fast, too fast to keep up with. Sam didn't really know how he had killed the spirit, driven his brother away and checked into the hotel room but there they were. Dean was on the bed, a red hue from the 'No Vacancy' sign outside the window coloring his freckles to spots of blood. There was an empty pill bottle in Sam's hand that he couldn't remember picking up but definitely remembered being full. All he knew was that it was right, everything was right.

"Sam," Dean's voice was laced with pain and he could barely lift his head. "Sam?"

"It's okay Dean." Sam dropped the pill bottle and it made the slightest _thump_ against the stained threadbare carpet. Strangely unsteady on his long legs, he made his way to the bed and dropped down next to his brother. "I'm here."

"Did-" his voice faltered but he took a shuddery breath and forged on. "Did you salt the windows, doors?"

"Of course." Without thinking Sam pulled his brother tight against his body, fitting them together like jigsaw pieces perfectly cut for each other. "And I locked up your baby carefully, she'll be fine. The Colt is in Dad's storehouse. Everything is alright."

"What do you mean?" Dean's voice was thin, fraying at the ends. Sam pressed a hand to the red-soaked towel flattened against the gaping wound in his brother's side. Dean had never looked as old as he did now. The neon lights highlighted every laugh line on his face, every crease that Sam knew as well as his salt-filled weapons. "I'm going Sam. There's no out of this. I don't want you tryin’ to get me back this time. You keep fighting the good fight, right Sam? Kill those sons of bitches."

"Come on, Dean," Sam almost whispered. "You know that's not true."

"Yes..." his voice was weakening. "Yes it is."

"You've got no one else, Dean." Sam's voice was the only sound in the room, soft and low and yet it seemed as though it carried to every corner of the world. In his mind he could see the yellowed photograph. Bobby, Ellen, Jo; dead. Castiel trapped somewhere in God's commands. They were all that was left. "I can't let you go there alone."

"No!" Strength seemed to spark into Dean's muscles from somewhere hidden and he pushed himself off Sam's chest. Pain flickered in his eyes and Sam automatically held out a hand to steady him. "You can't follow me this time."

Sam couldn't stop a laugh at that. "I've followed you my whole life, Dean, even in Stanford I tried to be like you. I'm not going to stop now." There was something final in that, something that placated Dean and drained his strength once more. He collapsed boneless on the bed, shoulder knocking against Sam's ribcage. Silence fell over the room, laden with a thousand unspoken thoughts that somehow still passed between them. This was the end of the line and still Sam wasn't scared. He wasn't even angry or sad. Dean was pressed against him, head tucked under Sam's chin in a way that he would normally rather be dead than allow. Ironic.

"Where do you think we’ll go?" Dean croaked finally, coughing weakly at the end. "Heaven won’t take us after what we've done. Cas would never give us to Hell though." Sam slipped his fingers in between Dean's, settling their joined hands over the weak beat of his brother's heart. He tried not to notice how easily Dean let the blatant chick-flick moment slip past.

"I don't know," he murmured into the short brown hair. "But we'll go there together."

"I-" Dean was cut off by wet, hacking coughs. Sam felt something break in him and he pulled his brother closer, wrapping his arms tighter and whispering soothing nothings. He tried to speak again but the coughing got worse, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. As if their bodies were synced together, Sam leaned over the side of the bed, blood and vomit sinking into the carpet. Pain seized his insides and it took all his effort to not cry out. It was hardly dignified but death never was.

"It's okay," Sam grunted through clenched teeth, wiping his face on the ratty bedspread. Carefully he resettled Dean until they were wrapped around each other as tightly as he could manage. "I love you."

"Sam-" He felt blood splatter against his shirt this time although he barely noticed as his vision started to tunnel. Dean's body was heaving against his, sucking in air but not saying anything. Sam was almost gone when he did. All Dean's strength, everything he had left, poured into one word before he fell into the dark. "Sammy."

Death barely changed anything. The Winchesters slumped completely still on a stained bed in a grungy hotel on the backstreets of some town in the ass crack of nowhere. Night crashed down around them, clouds blotting out the stars. Everything had fallen victim to the dark now, sleep caressing the small town. In a little room at the glowing centre of the world, a switch was flipped and a red light flipped off. _Vacancy_.  



End file.
